Karine collected her thoughts, and said:
“We are in the room where our well-beloved mistress fell asleep forever.”
“Do you mean Hilda de Waldemora?”
“Yes; she is the widow of the good young iarl, and the mother of the child named Christian, who ought now to return to light the Christmas candle on the hearth of his fathers. She gave birth to this child in the full of the moon of Hæst,[7] here, in this bed, where she died in the last days of the moon of Jul. She gave him her blessing here, by this window, out of which he flew away, for he was born with wings! And then she told a lie, saying in her heart: ‘God pardon me for killing my son by my word! But it is better for him to live among the elfs than among men.’ Then she sang to her harp, and when she died, she said: ‘May God bestow a mother upon my son!’”
Brought back, in a measure, to a perception of real things, Karine began to weep; then her mind became confused, and the minister, seeing that she could no longer understand the questions that were addressed to her, made a sign to the danneman, who quietly led the poor seeress away, after glancing in triumph at the company, as if to challenge their admiration of the manner in which his sister had answered.
“What would you have more?” said M. Goefle, glancing around him. “Has not this poor enthusiast told you, in a few words of her rustic poetry, precisely the same things that Stenson has written in this document, with the methodical clearness of his mind? And is not her very frenzy—the sort of continual delirium in which she lives—a proof of what she has suffered for those she so dearly loved?”
The opportunity for pleading was too fine to be lost; M. Goefle could not help taking advantage of it. He spoke with inspiration, summed up the facts of the case rapidly, related portions of Christian’s life, after having established his identity by means of Manasses’ letters to Stenson, explained the romantic circumstances of the last two days, and indeed succeeded so well in convincing his auditors, that they forgot all about the lateness of the hour and their own fatigue, and asked him question after question, so as to keep him talking. Finally, they all signed an official report of the proceedings.
The Baron de Lindenwald made a last effort to revive the drooping courage of the other heirs.
“No matter,” he said, rising, for the doors were open, and any one was free to withdraw, “we shall find out the truth of all these ridiculous fictions: we will go to law!”
“I suppose so,” replied M. Goefle, with great animation; “but we shall await you on firm ground.”